


Flashfires

by Aeshdan



Category: Cats & Dogs (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck, Miraculous Ladybug, Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: F/M, Rating may change with future works, collection, further tags as more stories added, story fragments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2020-05-16 05:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19311325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeshdan/pseuds/Aeshdan
Summary: A place to keep my fragments and little ideas that aren't big enough to make a full story. Some of these may grow into complete stories down the line... who knows?





	1. Princess Charming (Miraculous Ladybug)

**Author's Note:**

> MiniMinou's _Prince Charming_ is one of my favorite works, and I couldn't help but speculate as to what might happen in the character's lives after the Epilog. So here is a glimpse into the future I imagine for them.
> 
> MiniMinou, please accept this tribute in the spirit in which it was written.

There had been celebration across the breadth of the land when Prince Adrien had made Marinette Dupain-Cheng his Princess. There had been quiet rejoicing when he had been crowned King, though nobody had wished to mock the son’s grief by being too open with their happiness. There had been rejoicing upon the news that the Queen was pregnant. But this celebration, the celebration of the birth and christening of their king and queen’s twin children, put them all to shame.

_Two_ children, the succession doubly secured. Emma Agreste, firstborn and Crown Princess, with brilliant green eyes and hair like spun gold (what little of it had yet come in). Half the kingdom was whispering that her birth proved the King blessed with the gift of prophecy, for how else could he possibly have known months in advance to change the laws and make the royal succession by order of birth regardless of gender? And then there was Louis, in whose black hair and blue eyes poets were already finding visions of a mighty champion, worthy of his renowned grandfather.

There were celebrations throughout the land (or would be as soon as the news reached the various towns and cities that their Queen had given birth to twins). But the capital was practically one vast party, and the royal palace was the eye of the storm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_We’ll have to stop this soon._ Adrien thought as he surveyed the seemingly endless line of well-wishers. He was probably good for another few hours, the cat’s instincts blended well with his training on occasions such as this, but Marinette was starting to fidget. Nino and Alya had disappeared left just after the noon feast, before the show even started. They’d already given their congratulations well before the children were even christened, and their duties as godparents did not include dealing with an endless parade of celebrants. It was easy to forget just how many people lived in his capitol, until a moment like this when they all wanted to come into his palace and see his newly christened children.

And then yet another well-wisher turned aside, and Adrien jolted to full alertness as he saw the next figure in line. She looked to be a girl of about ten or twelve years, just beginning to blossom into womanhood, clad in a knee-length dress of pale pink. Thick red curls framed a round face dotted with freckles, and two sky-blue eyes shone above a small nose and a broad smile.

Adrien wasn’t fooled for a second, and the overlarge black cat that wrapped around her ankles did only a little to reassure him.   _Lady Luck,_ he thought. _Well, I_ suppose _this could be a good thing._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette saw her cat stiffen out of the corner of her eye, just as she too recognized Lady Luck.

“Your Ladyship,” Marinette said with a mostly genuine smile. “A pleasure to see you on such an occasion. What brings you here?”

Lady Luck’s laughter was as clear and beautiful and inhuman as the chime of bells or the babble of a brook. The whole audience chamber fell silent at that voice, background chatter ending as though cut off with a sword. “How could I stay away when the most remarkable human I’ve met in many a long year and my kismesis’s newest pet have brought forth not one but _two_ children? This is an occasion deserving my presence, and my blessing.”

“Thank you for the thought, Your Ladyship,” said Adrien, a little too quickly, “but you really don’t need to feel obligated. I’m quite happy with what I have.”

Lady Luck giggled again. “Very polite of you, little king,” she said. “But you needn’t fear repeating your father’s mistake. Only one blessing is compelled of me today, and that by the mother’s line.”

She reached into the pocket of her dress, and produced a small locket on a chain, made of rose gold and decorated with a stylized ladybug. “Emma, descendant of ancient Mulan,” Tikki said, bending over the cradle in which Emma slept obliviously “receive now that which she won for you.” She fastened the chain around Emma’s tiny neck, the locket coming to rest on her stomach. “Keep this charm sealed tight and close at hand, and my favour shall always be with you.”

She straightened back up again. “And so that which I was bound to do I have done,” she said. “But when all others are wishing these newborns well, how can I refrain? Another blessing I will give today, and this to them both alike. Now, what would serve these two well…”

Marinette tried to calm her nerves.

_Surely this will be good for them,_ she thought. _My cat’s blessing was a very special case, and even then it worked out for the best._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tikki looked down on the twin babies, the paths they might walk and the potential within them spreading out before her mind’s eye.

_Such potential!_ she thought. _Healthy bodies, minds that could grow keen, and they’re both mages. Strong ones at that, though of course not on the same scale as their father._

_And these two stand at the crossroads of history. Adrien and Marinette have already done so much, and will do far more before they die. Their reign could start a golden age throughout this whole part of the world that would last for centuries. But it’ll be up to Emma and Louis, and the others who are yet to come, to finish what Marinette and Adrien will start and bring that age to its fruition. Just a little nudge, that’s all I should need to make sure that all this potential isn’t wasted._

She took a deep breath. That was mostly for show, but it also let her mentally review the wording of her blessing. While her intent would shade how the blessing manifested, the exact words could still be critically important. And of course, she needed to choose her words such that Adrien wouldn’t panic _too_ badly. She didn’t want him losing his head and trying to make another bargain with Plagg or something equally idiotic.

“Emma, daughter of Marinette, daughter of Adrien,” she said, and roseate sparkles began to fall from her splayed fingers, drifting like flower petals over the twin infants. “Louis, son of Adrien, son of Marinette. This is my blessing upon you, that you may be in all ways true heirs to the greatness of your parents. May all the potential of their blood be brought forth in you, and may you learn all that they shall seek to teach you. May you inherit your parents’ keen minds and kindly hearts, your father’s mighty spirit and your mother’s valiant soul.”

She clenched her fingers into a fist, and there was a momentary flash of pinkish-red light as she sealed the blessing.

“And now,” a familiar voice drawled from around her ankles, “my turn.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrien started slightly as Plagg spoke.

_What in the lamb’s blood?_ he thought.

Plagg’s form suddenly blurred, his size doubling and doubling again, his limbs elongating, his form changing, until a single deep breath later there stood next to Lady Luck a figure that bore a surprising resemblance to Cat Noir near the most bestial end of his transformations. The head was almost purely feline, with the slitted green eyes of the kwami’s feline form, twin ears perched atop the head, and a feline mouth complete with whiskers. The mane-like ruff of Plagg’s normal shape seemed to have been rendered into shaggy locks of black hair that tumbled just past Plagg’s shoulders. Below the neck, Plagg’s form was mostly human save for too-thick fingers from which curved claws emerged. Lean, wiry musculature like that of a runner or duelist was slightly obscured by close-cropped black fur, and absolutely nothing else. Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien saw a blush stain Marinette’s face, and he stifled an absurd temptation to snicker. The silence that Tikki’s presence had brought was suddenly broken by

“Lord Misfortune,” Adrien said. Plenty of practice with juggling names and titles made it easy to remember which of the dark fae’s names could be used in public, and which were to be kept a secret. “Might I enquire what you intend to do? Should you lay a curse upon my children, I doubt very much you would like the consequences.”

Plagg grinned, jaw dropping open and ears and whiskers quirking forward in what Adrien recognized as the feline equivalent of a belly laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to risk my cheese supply that way. This is the best deal I’ve had in ages. Actually, I’m hoping to keep it going into the next generation. If you’ll wait just a second, you’ll see what I mean.”

Plagg raised one hand and flexed the muscles slightly, claws retracting into their hidden sheaths. He then stuck one leather-pawed thumb into his mouth and bit down hard. He removed the thumb, and Adrien saw a drop of blood, ink-black and thicker than human blood, ooze from the pad of the thumb.

Plagg quickly pressed his bloodied thumb to first Emma’s forehead, then Louis’s, leaving behind glistening black fingerprints on the pale skin.

“By this mark,” Plagg said, voice echoing through the throneroom, “let it be known to all the powers of darkness and destruction that these two enjoy my favor. They are now and henceforth under my protection, and should any subject of mine do them harm, I shall know of it and my wrath shall fall upon the offender.”

As Plagg spoke, the black blood sank into Emma and Louis’s skin, until by the time he’d finished the matching black thumbprints could have been a pair of oddly detailed birthmarks. With a broad grin, Plagg tugged on one feline ear, and promptly vanished in a puff of black smoke. Only then did Adrien notice that Lady Luck had also vanished at some point.

The throneroom exploded with conversation, and Adrien let out a long breath.

_Well,_ he thought, _that’s that. Hopefully Plagg will be willing to explain_ exactly _what he and Tikki did next time he shows up for cheese._

_For now, though, I have a crowd to deal with._


	2. Tournament Follies: Chapter 1 (Harry Potter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One possible AU of the Triwizard Tournament choosing scene in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Even for the wizarding world, the idea of using a device that allows one person to enter another into a binding magical contract, with no safeguards, seems a little nuts. Suppose that it was not actually that easy...

As the judges, the champions, and Harry marched out into the Great Hall, the hall exploded with sound once again, applause and boos and frantic discussion mingling into cacophony.

A sharp flick of Professor Dumbledore’s wand produced a sound like a crack of thunder, and the noise vanished as if cut with a knife.

“Thank you,” said Professor Dumbledore, voice booming out as Ludo Bagman’s had at the Quidditch World Cup. “Now, Mr. Potter claims he did not put his name into the Goblet, nor did he ask anyone to put it in for him. I have made an extensive study of the Goblet’s enchantments in preparation for this tournament, as I am sure my fellow Heads did, and I am pleased to say that this may be simply and easily tested.”

There was a vast sound as the entire school seemed to draw in breath at once.

“The enchantments on the Goblet,” Professor Dumbledore said, gesturing to the now-extinguished cup, “are at their base contract-magic, of much the same sort as the Ministry uses today. As such, they react principally to _intent_. There are many esoteric magical details involved, but suffice it to say that if young Mr. Potter is telling the truth, and his name was placed into the Goblet without his consent or knowledge, then the Goblet will not have bound him to the tournament. Instead, whoever it is who truly placed Mr. Potter’s name in the Goblet shall have assumed the binding magical contract. Moreover, with the proper incantation, the Goblet may be made to reveal those whom it currently holds bound. If Harry is telling the truth, then the Goblet shall point not to him, but to the one who put his name in the Goblet.”

Dumbledore turned to the Beaubaxtons Headmistress. “Madame Maxime, would you care to do the honors? As Harry is one of my students, I feel it would be best if I were not the one to test his claim.”

“Very well, Dumbly-dore,” Madame Maxime said frostily. She strode over to the Goblet, raised her wand, and began to recite a long incantation.

Harry could feel his hands trembling. The horror and resignation that had filled him when his name emerged from the Goblet were warring with a sudden bright hope. All he’d wanted was to have one normal year, one year in which he didn’t need to fight for his life and soul. For those few minutes, that had seemed too much to ask, but perhaps, just perhaps, he might actually get his wish.

With the final word of her incantation, Madame Maxime struck the Goblet sharply with the tip of her wand. With a whoosh, the Goblet burst into flame, the blue flames dancing within the cup rapidly rising into a swirling pillar of flame. Suddenly, four bolts of fire shot out from that pillar like striking serpents. Three struck Cedric, Krum, and Fleur, connecting them to the Goblet with lines of blue fire. The fourth bolt shot towards Harry, and he felt his heart sink… but then the bolt shot over his shoulder to strike Alastor Moody, haloing him in blue-white flame.

Harry stared at Professor Moody, his jaw dropping. Moody’s hand flashed to his wand, but before he could even draw it twin bolts of red light flashed across the room, slamming into him an eyeblink apart and sending him flying back to land crumpled against the wall.

Professor Dumbledore rushed to Professor Moody, ropes shooting from his wand to tie up the unconscious Professor. At that moment, seeing the cold fury in Dumbledore’s eyes and the power blazing from him like heat from a fire, Harry knew why it was that Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort ever feared. Dumbledore knelt beside Moody, pulling the flask from his pocket and sniffing at it. “Polyjuice Potion,” Harry heard him mutter.

Before he could say anything further, Mister Crouch’s face suddenly twisted, and he broke into a charge towards Dumbledore, hands extending. Before he’d taken two steps, a flash of red shot from Dumbledore’s wand and Crouch slumped to the floor, unconscious.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Dumbledore murmured. “Professor Snape!” he said in a louder voice.

“Yes, Headmaster?” Snape drawled.

“As Chief Warlock of the Wizenagamot, I am officially authorizing the use of Veritaserum on this man, to find out who he is, how he comes to impersonate Alastor Moody, and why he attempted to enter Harry Potter into the Triwizard Tournament. If you would kindly fetch some from your stores and meet me in the Defense Professor’s office?”

“At once, Headmaster,” said Professor Snape, and he promptly spun about and billowed out of the Great Hall.

“My fellow Heads, Ludo, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore continued, levitating the unconscious Professor Moody and Crouch into the air with a flick of his wand, “if you would please follow me?”

“You mean to let Potter be present for this?” said Karkaroff in disbelief. “He is just a boy!”

“The matter intimately concerns him, Headmaster Karkaroff,” said Professor Dumbledore. “He has more right than most to know whatever truths may come to light tonight.”

Harry mutely trailed behind the three Headmasters and the floating form of…

 _Who?_ Harry thought. _If he’s not Professor Moody, then who_ is _he?_

They made their way into the fake Moody’s office, Harry momentarily distracted from his bewilderment by the multitude of strange devices, almost as many and as odd as he’d seen in Professor Dumbledore’s office. With a wave of Professor Dumbledore’s wand, the unconscious Crouch and Moody were deposited in two chairs, with two more waves the magical eye popped from its socket and the peg leg wriggled out from the ropes binding the unconscious Professor. With a final wave of Dumbledore’s wand, a bunch of keys slipped between the ropes and flew into his hand.

Dumbledore turned to the chest in the corner with the seven locks, turned a key in the first lock, and opened the chest. It contained a mass of spellbooks. Dumbledore closed the chest, turned a different key in the second lock, and reopened it. The spellbooks had vanished, and it now contained an assortment of broken Sneakoscopes, some quills and parchment, and what looked like a silvery Invisbility Cloak. One by one Dumbledore turned each of the locks, each revealing a different interior to the chest, until finally he turned the seventh lock and opened the lid.

Harry stared in amazement. He was looking down into a pit, far deeper than the trunk, and at the bottom lay what could only be the real Mad-Eye Moody, horribly thin and missing his eye, his leg, and chunks of his grizzled hair.

Dumbledore vaulted the edge of the trunk and descended into the pit, touching down feather-light at the bottom.

“Stunned, and probably Imperiused as well,” he said as if to himself. “Someone throw down the imposter’s cloak, he’s freezing. He’ll have to see Madam Pomfrey, of course, but I don’t think he’s in any immediate danger. The imposter had to keep him alive and at least reasonably healthy, if only for the Polyjuice. And I fancy…”

The door opened, and Professor Snape swept in, holding a small bottle.

“Right on time, Severus,” Professor Dumbledore said brightly, rising up out of Moody’s trunk as if on an elevator. “Does Veritaserum interact with Polyjuice, by the by?”

“It does not,” Snape said.

“Then let’s go ahead and interrogate him,” Ludo Bagman said. “I, for one, wish to know what in Merlin’s name is the meaning of this!”

At a wave of Dumbledore’s wand, the fake Moody’s mouth opened slightly, and Snape carefully tipped three drops in. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the man’s chest and said _“Ennervate”_

The fake Moody’s eyes fluttered open, and Dumbledore knelt in front of him.

“Can you hear me?” he said.

“Yes,” the imposter tonelessly.

“What is your name?” Dumbledore said.

“Bartemius Crouch.”

“What?” Bagman blurted out. “How is that possible? Barty is right over there!”

“That is my father,” the imposter replied.

“Merlin!” Bagman whispered. “Barty Crouch Jr? How are you still alive?”

“My mother saved me,” the man who still looked like Alastor Moody said. “She was dying, and she loved me greatly. She persuaded my father to save me. They came to visit me, and my mother and I switched places by means of the Polyjuice Potion. My father smuggled me out in my mother’s shape under the Imperius Curse, and she stayed behind. She continued to take Polyjuice Potion for a few days, until she was certain that the switch had not been noticed. Then she took a poison that would kill her swiftly and painlessly, so that she died in my shape and would not change back. She was buried in my place.”

The three Headmasters, Bagman, Snape and Harry all stood silent, transfixed by Barty Crouch’s emotionless recitation. “Meanwhile, my father staged my mother’s death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The family house-elf, Winky, nursed me back to health, and my father kept me under the Imperius Curse to keep me quiet, to keep me from seeking out my master.”

“How did you come to be here at Hogwarts?” Dumbledore said.

“My master came for me,” Crouch whispered. Before their eyes, his form began to change. Scars faded, the damaged nose grew whole and shrank, grizzled hair retracted into the skull and grew fair. Crouch continued talking without pause, seeming not even to notice. “He arrived at our house late one night, carried in the arms of his servant, Wormtail. My father answered the door, and my master had him under the Imperius before he could react. I was free, and my master told me his plans. He would need a faithful servant here at Hogwarts, a servant who could enter Harry Potter into the Triwizard Tournament, guide him in secret, and at last deliver him over to my master. Wormtail and I went to Alastor Moody’s house. We had prepared the Polyjuice in advance. Moody put up a struggle, but we were able to subdue him just in time and stuff him in his own trunk. I took the Polyjuice, with one of Moody’s hairs, and donned his eye and leg. I had time to move some dustbins around and make them shoot rubbish before anyone from the Ministry arrived, and I claimed that a Muggle had set off my security system. They believed me, Moody was so eccentric that they would have bought anything I said. Then I packed up Moody’s clothes and Dark Detectors in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts.”

“And who is your master?” Dumbledore said, voice growing intense.

“The Dark Lord,” Barty Crouch said, a disturbing gleam flashing in his eyes even through the Veritaserum haze. “Lord Voldemort.” A causual wave of his wand silenced Ludo Bagman, whose mouth opened and shut soundlessly.

“And Wormtail?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Crouch said, and Harry felt a sudden surge of hope.

“So Sirius Black was not the traitor who betrayed the Potters?” Dumbledore said.

“No. Sirius Black was loyal to his blood traitor friends, it was Pettigrew who was their Secret Keeper. I heard the whole story from my master after he rescued me.”

“And where are they now?” Dumbledore asked, voice taut with suppressed triumph.

For the first time, Barty Crouch seemed to be fighting the serum, but after a few moments of thrashing, “The Gaunt Manor!” slipped through clenched teeth.

“Enough,” Dumbledore said, stunning Barty again with a flash of his wand. “Snape, kindly take Alastor down to Madame Pomfrey, then join me at the Ministry. Ludo, if you would come with me, Amelia Bones will want your confirmation of what Barty here just said. Headmistress Maxime, Headmaster Karkaroff, I would suggest you return to your students. Three voices should be enough for Bones. Harry, you should probably return to your dorms. Your fellow students will wish to know what is going on, and it will be some time before I am back from the Ministry.”

Harry walked from the Dumbledore’s office, still stunned. In the space of not even a full hour, his life had been upended more thoroughly than it had been since Hagrid had told him he was a wizard and finally delivered his Hogwarts letter.

But as he walked through the corridors, a spark of hope was slowly building in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, things would start getting better from here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Months Later_

Harry stared down from the stands in horror.

“I would have had to fight _that_?” he exclaimed, pointing at the massive dragon now nesting in the center of the arena.

“Thank Merlin you don’t, Pup,” said Sirius Black from where he sat next to Harry. “For once, you just get to sit and watch as some other poor soul faces the horrifying danger. All you need to worry about is finding a date for the Yule Ball.”

“The what?” Harry asked.

“Shush, he’s coming out!” Ron Weasley said from Harry’s other side.

Harry grabbed his Omnioculars and looked down, seeing Cedric Diggory emerge from the champion’s tent.

 _Here we go…_ thought Harry with a grin as he settled back to enjoy the show.

 


	3. Blinding Void (Homestuck/Worm)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Earth Bet, precognition is the king of powers. From the Simurgh to Contessa to Coil, those with the power to see the future are responsible for the horrifically broken nature of life on Earth Be. What would happen if a certain God Tier Hero, one whose signature power is the ability to blind precognitives all throughout her session, entered the picture?

In the space between spaces, two gods contemplated a world.

“yoU can see that the place is qUite a mess,” said the one whose skin was green and whose face was like a skull. “i sUspect that this Universe’s genesis frog has developed parasites.”

“i c wat u mean,” said the other, a young woman with wine-colored eyes and snow-white skin and hair. “nasty wriggly things, and so dumb. what really gets me though, is the humans. i mean, we did some pretty horrible things, i’m not denyin that. but at least we had some excuses. we were kids, raised by nutjobs more than half of us, and paradox space depended on us bein a bunch of screwed-up dysfunctionals. these are supposed to be grownups, but they’re actin worse than we ever did. so focused on their path to victory that they’re burnin the world down around them like a bunch of subjuggulators. enough to drive me to drinkin again.”

“they need to be taUght a lesson,” said the first power. “and i believe yoU are jUst the one to do it.”

“no kidding,” said the second. “ok, so how we doin this?”

“in a moment, one of these parasites shall attempt to attach itself to a yoUng girl, one who has been betrayed by her closest friends and trapped in a manner i woUld not wish even Upon my brother. yoU shoUld be able to preempt this parasite, and offer her instead a portion of yoUr powers. i have no doUbt that she shall accept. introdUce yoUr power, the void that blinds the seer, into this world, and these conspirators will be forced to consider the paths before them as mortals do.”

“right, got it. and here we go…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taylor hammered frantically against the walls of the locker. Her voice had given out, her fists were bloody, and she was becoming terribly certain she was going to die in there. She could feel the bugs moving beneath her flesh where they had chewed through her skin, and…

Something vast, enormous, a fractal impossibility. Something vast as a continent broke free and floated down. It reached out a tendril glowing with countless promises, reached down—

_uh-uh._

Cobalt-edged blackness swirled around Taylor, the tendril vanishing.

 _sorry,_ a voice said in her mind, _but you really don’t want that thing’s help. it’ll do horrible things to your mind, and nfw am i puttin up with that when i don’t have to. bright side, i can get you out of that locker. i have my reasons for wanting an avatar in this world, so i can give you a bit of my power. it’ll get you out of that locker, i’ve gotten out of much tougher prisons in my time. deal?_

“Yes,” Taylor whispered. “Please…”

Emptiness filled her. She was nothing, was one with the void. Frantically, she lunged forward, passing through the metal of the locker door and leaving behind filth and rot and bugs.

She landed on all fours in the hallway in front of the locker, staring down at the snow-white skin of her hands.

 _wups,_ said the voice in her head, sounding slightly embarrassed. _sorry about your colors. i’ve never actually done this before, at least not in this particular way. looks like you ended up with my skin and hair color, or lack thereof._

All around Taylor, the hallway exploded in a babble of multiple overlapping voices.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At his desk at the PRT headquarters, Thomas Calvert started and almost fell over backwards off his chair. The other timeline, the one where he was inspecting his secret base, had just snapped shut. Frantically, he tried to split the timelines again, to figure out what had just happened and get some options to work with, but his power… stuttered, the divergent timelines collapsing again the instant he opened them.

In a blind panic, he leapt to his feet and fled for the stairs, trying to split time again every few feet. Whatever this was, a Trump effect, some kind of Tinkertech device, his only hope was to get out of range. Without his power, there was no way he’d be able to juggle all the balls necessary to keep his double life going.

His power still would not function.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Step 3297, turn latch._

Contessa reached out and rotated the latch.

_Step 3298, enter room._

Contessa stepped into the room.

_Step 3299_

The Path vanished.

Contessa stood there for a moment, waiting for the next step towards her goal to appear in her head as it always had since she was a small child. Nothing happened.

 _Path towards destroying research that might incriminate Alexandria,_ she thought, hoping that the path she had been on would reappear. Nothing happened.

 _Path towards finding a bathroom,_ she thought experimentally. Nothing happened.

She racked her brain, trying to recall what it had been like to have to think, figure out the next step towards her goals rather than having it handed her by her power.

“Door to Cauldron Headquarters,” she said after a moment.

Nothing happened.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, Contessa felt genuine fear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t see, I can’t see.”

Doctor Mother stared down in horror at the Clairvoyant. In company with his partner the Doormaker, the Clairvoyant was one of Cauldron’s greatest assets, giving them faultless surveillance of Earth Bet and most of the parallel Earths, and the ability to open portals that would let them go anywhere, penetrate any security. But it was Clairvoyant’s gifted sight that allowed the Doormaker to open his portals. If someone had, impossibly, blinded the Clairvoyant, then Cauldron had in one stroke lost their surveillance capabilities and been cut off from the wider multiverse.

 _Who could do this?_ she thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In orbit around Earth Bet, the Simurgh suddenly halted, freezing in her perpetual circuit. In between one moment and the next, her pre- and post-cognitive senses had suddenly been blinded. A power she could not begin to comprehend had thrown a veil over the past and the future, leaving her completely blind.

On the world below, her countless manipulations began to slowly come unraveled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the space between spaces, the Muse of Space turned to address the Rogue of Void.

“and now we wait.”

“and now we wait,” repeated the Rogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Homestuck Day, everyone!


	4. The Other Side Of The Story (Cats And Dogs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the beginning of "Cats And Dogs", Butch tells Lou a story of how the war between cats and dogs began in Ancient Egypt, with the cats enslaving humanity before the dogs rose up and drove them out. But when the second movie revealed the existence of M.E.O.W.S., a equally heroic feline counterpart and rival to D.O.G., it occurred to me to wonder what their side of the story looked like...

“It all began back in Ancient Egypt.”

Catherine’s awed glance flicked back and forth from Tab Lazenby to the screen he had just revealed behind a trick panel in the wall of his human’s house. She’d heard of M.E.O.W.S., of course, almost all cats did, but she’d never thought she’d be inducted as an actual agent.

Tab tapped a key with one claw, bringing up a stylized mural showing cats and humans facing each other.

“Back then, cats and humans lived together in harmony,” he said. “With our ingenuity and cunning combined with human drive and musclepower, the first true civilization began to flourish. Writing, agriculture, architecture, all discovered as a result of feline genius.”

As Tab talked, he advanced through a number of slides showing humans and cats harvesting fields, building pyramids, catching fish, and other activities.

“Unfortunately, that was when the dogs entered the picture,” Tab said, advancing to the next slide. This one showed a horde of stylized dogs descending on the humans and cats, driving them into retreat and setting fire to the buildings and fields. “They envied us the fruits of our progress and civilization, our soft beds and sturdy roofs and abundant fish. So they made an alliance with human barbarians, and one day they launched a massive assault, seeking to take what we had made. At the time, we were a peaceful race, so between that and the dogs’ greater natural size and strength we were routed in those first battles. The dogs tried to co-opt our work and our discoveries, but just as it has been ever since they could only break what they tried to take, looting the fruits of our civilization but unable to keep the mechanisms running.”

“Meanwhile, we turned our cunning to the arts of war, and soon were able to level the playing field, regaining much of what the dogs took from us. And that was the beginning of what would eventually become M.E.O.W.S., those few among the cats who work to protect everything that our fellow felines and our human partners have spent millennia building from the threat of jealous canines. We are the thin furry line, all that stands between civilization and anarchy.”

Tab tapped one last key, and the trick panel slid back over the screen. A moment later, a second panel next to it slid open, revealing a passage disappearing into the darkness. “And you,” Tab said, ears quirking forward in a feline smile, “have been found worthy to join us, to walk in the pawprints of Bastet and Puss-In-Boots and Cat Sith.”

“Congratulations, Catherine. And welcome to M.E.O.W.S.”


	5. Ginevra Weasley and The Father Of Storms: Chapter 1 (Harry Potter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of her experiences at the hands of Tom Riddle, a mysterious Power offers Ginny Weasley new weapons to fight the evil that has scarred her soul. Accepting, she is drawn into the ancient war between Light and Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Silently Watches' Black Queen series, though as you will see I am taking it in a rather different direction. Silently is a gifted worldbuilder, but I don't much care for his characters or plot. (Just to be clear, he is good at *writing* characters and plots, it's just that the POV characters of his works tend to be the kind of people I hate, and they tend to win in his stories).
> 
> Happy Easter! He is risen!

Molly Weasley had never really believed in the Old Ways. Oh, she’d heard the stories as a little girl and later at Weasley family reunions, and had told them to her children. She’d joined in with the other wizarding families in the neighborhood to wassail the orchards every Christmas, and celebrated on the summer solstice when the powers of Light were supposed to reach their peak. But she’d never truly believed, never expected or wanted the Powers to be more than children’s stories and an excuse to get together with other witches and wizards for a feast and a fun activity every so often.

But now, as she carefully peaked in the door to see her daughter slumped facedown and quietly sobbing on her bed, she was desperate enough to hope. Desperate enough to pray.

She slipped off to her own room, and locked the door. Arthur wouldn’t be back for hours, but she didn’t want any of her younger children coming in. She already felt ridiculous enough just doing this, she didn’t want any witnesses.

“Mother Danu,” she whispered, dropping to her knees next to her bed. “Titania, guardian of children. Please, if you’re real, if you actually hear our prayers, help my daughter. Please, bring her peace, heal the wounds that abominable diary inflicted on her. Please…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Ginny felt herself walking into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. A sibilant hiss came from her lips without her mind’s prompting, and the sink ground open. Helpless, trapped in her own mind, Ginny felt herself slide down the twisting pipe. The walls blurred around her, and then she was standing in front of the serpent-marked door. That same inhuman hissing issued forth from her lips, and the door swung open. She felt herself walk down the long avenue between the serpent statues, until she finally came to the pool before the oversized bust of Slytherin. She felt herself pull the diary out from her pocket and set it on the ground in front of her. There was a ripple in the air, and then the translucent form of Tom took shape in front of her. _

_ “Hello, Ginny,” Tom said. _

_ “Tom?” Ginny said, suddenly able to move herself once again. “How… where am I?” _

_ Tom laughed. “You are in the Chamber of Secrets, my dear.” _

_ “You look real,” Ginny said. _

_ “Not quite yet,” Tom said, smile growing cruel. “I am a memory, preserved in a diary for over fifty years. I have to thank you, Ginny, for giving so much of yourself to me. If you had not poured your heart into my diary, I would never have been able to continue Salazar Slytherin’s great work, let alone stand here before you.” _

_ “No,” the dream Ginny whispered, horror filling her, “that’s not possible”. _

_  “Be at peace, my child,” an unfamiliar voice said. The Chamber and Tom seemed to melt, colors running together into a shapeless blur, and suddenly Ginny found herself standing in the Weasley’s apple orchard. _

_ “Wait, what’s…” Ginny began before interrupting herself. “This is a dream, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I be waking up now?” _

_ She looked around for a moment, and then her gaze returned to the tree in front of her. Which now had a face looking out of it. The face frowned for a moment, and then pressed forwards, smooth bark flowing like water as a woman’s shape stepped out of the tree. The figure’s face and chest were human and maternal, plump and curved like Ginny’s mother, though the flesh gave way to bark along the back and limbs. _

_ “Fear not, little one,” the tree-woman said, her voice breathy and inhuman as the rustling of leaves. “ _ He _ has no power here. Here, you are safe.” _

_ “Who  _ are _ you?” Ginny demanded. _

_ “I have been known by many names,” the figure said, plump lips quirking in a slight smile. “I have been Gaea and Holda and the Mother of Mercies, but your ancestors called me Danu. That will do for now.” _

_ “Danu…” Ginny said slowly. “Like in the stories Mum used to tell? You’re real?” _

_ “Indeed I am,” said the tree-woman laughingly. “Few remember the Old Ways in these days, and even fewer believe. Take your mother, for example. She heard the stories, she told them to you, she even participated in a few of my rituals. Yet she did not truly believe, or want to believe. Not until this summer, when in her concern for you she found… not belief, perhaps, but hope. She loved you enough to wish that I was real, so that I might bring you peace. And for the sake of that wish, and for the sake of those who came before you and served me well, I have come.” _

_ Her expression turned almost impish. “Yet I don’t think it is my comfort you wish. You are not your mother, and it is a different facet of the Light that shines brightest in you.” _

_ There was a blinding flash and a sound like a crack of thunder, and when Ginny’s vision cleared a man was standing next to the tree-woman. He stood what had to be at least seven feet tall, with golden-blond hair that stretched to his shoulders, a trim beard and mustache covering a squared jaw, and clad only in a kind of leather kilt that exposed a chest, arms, and legs rippling with muscle. In one hand, he grasped an oversized hammer with a square head, runes along the shaft and head glowing with the same vivid blue-white light as their bearer’s eyes. _

_ “GREETINGS, GINEVRA WEASLEY!”, the figure said in a voice like the roar of thunder. The words hit Ginny with an almost palpable force, driving her back a step. _

_ “Now, brother,” scolded Danu. “Indoor voice, remember?” _

_ “I AM JUPITER AND MARDUK AND THOR!” boomed the man. “I AM THE RAGING STORM, THE THUNDER AND THE LIGHTNING AND THE WRATH OF THE ALMIGHTY. I WILL NOT BE TOLD TO USE MY ‘INDOOR VOICE’!” _

_ To Ginny’s slight surprise, a snicker escaped her at that. _

_ “Nevertheless,” the man continued, voice dropping from its thunderous boom to a more human volume, “I do take your point, my sister.” _

_ “Again,” he said, casually switching the hammer to his left hand and extending his right to Ginny, “greetings to you, Ginny Weasley.” _

_ Ginny took the hand, feeling shaken. It was hotter than a human hand, with a grip that somehow felt both delicate and firm, as though only the tiniest trickle of a strength too vast to imagine was being employed. _

_ “What’s going on?” Ginny said, letting go of the hand. “What are you two doing in my dream?” _

_ “I am here, Ginny,” said Thor, “because you have known the touch of true evil. It has scarred your mind and wounded your soul, and you now know, as few do, what evil truly is. You know that the one of whom your tormentor was only a shadow is still out there, and the boy you love must fight him still ere all things can end. I would give you the strength to fight beside your love against the servant of our enemies.” _

_ “Me… fight V-Voldemort?” Ginny whispered. _

_ “Not, I hope, for a while yet,” said Thor quickly. “But there is valor and strength in you already, enough to fight well against the poisons of the one you called Voldemort, and you will grow strong in magic and body should nothing interfere. In time, you could be a great warrior for the Light, and ensure that others need not suffer as you have. There are too few who bear my mantle these days, and the one who claims the title of the Light’s Leader has fallen to the mirror blindness.” _

_ “The what?” _

_ Danu winced. “The mirror blindness. It’s a term we’ve heard used among our followers, to speak of one who believes that he is following the way of Light but has twisted it into madness. We say that he sees the true Light, but only sees it reflected in the warped mirror of his own mind.” _

_ “In any case,” said Thor quickly, “do you accept my bargain, Ginny? We cannot hold you in this dream forever, and once it passes I cannot extend this offer anew until the longest day comes round once more.” _

_ Ginny bit her lip. “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but how do I know I can trust you? Tom sounded nice, but he betrayed me. And you appear in a dream like this, with an offer I have to accept now…” she trailed off, unable to find the words. _

_ “By our fruits shall you know us,” said Danu. “You have heard the tales from your mother, have you not?” _

_ “Yes…” Ginny said. _

_ “And what did those tales say of us?” Danu followed up. “Did we sound like beings to be feared or mistrusted? Or, if you like, judge us by what we shall ask of you. All my brother has asked you to do is to fight against the one whose shadow so harmed you, and against those like him. Is that not a worthy purpose?” _

_ “That’s not what I mean,” Ginny said. “How do I know you are what you say you are?” _

_ “What would be the point of lies, in this situation?” said Thor, looking slightly perplexed. “If we were not what we say we are, if I were… say the Baron, then how would getting you to swear to the service of Thor help the Baron’s agenda? And if we did not need your assent to do what we propose, then why would we be having this meeting in the first place?” _

_ Ginny nodded her head reluctantly. She was still scared, but Thor’s words made sense. And she wanted to believe, she realized. So much of what she wanted was tied up in this offer: A chance for vengeance upon Tom, the chance to save Harry as he’d saved her, the desire to be more than just a housewife… _

_ “I accept your bargain,” she said, screwing up her Gryffindor courage. _

_ Thor raised his hand, and a bolt of lightning shot down with a crack that almost deafened her. The lightning became a blazing mass of blue-white fire in his hand, which then solidified into a hammer much like the one Thor still held in his left hand, only smaller, proportioned for Ginny to wield. Thor flipped the hammer around, catching it by the head and extending the hilt towards her. _

_ “Then take up your weapon, my champion,” he said. _

_ Ginny reached out and grasped the hilt of the hammer. A shock of white fire leapt up her arm,  _ and she jolted awake, her arms flailing out, one hand rapping against her bedside table.

_ Nimue’s tears, _ Ginny thought, breathing hard,  _ what a dream! _

_ Or was it… _

_ Please let it have been real. _

She turned her focus inwards, and she felt something in the back of her mind like a tiny ember of fire. She reached for that warmth, and after a couple of tries she felt something within herself touch it. White heat shot down the nerves of her arm, and her bedroom was lit up as tiny lightnings danced between her fingers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A fire burned high from the center of the white marble cube, and the wizard knelt before the icon, his colorless robe pooling as it met the stone floor. “Your follower comes at Your call, Your Holiness.”

Footsteps sounded from behind the cube. The wizard glanced up just long enough to see a golden man step into view, a long leather skirt the only clothing the figure possessed, before returning his eyes to the flame. The figure strode next to him and turned to regard the fire, as well. “Our finest servant,” the golden man finally said, “Our ever-faithful priest. We have a task for you.”

“You need only tell this one what You desire, and it shall be done.”

“So it has always been, even when your heart cried out in sorrow at what needed doing,” the golden man said, “Yet in this task We hope you may find true joy. A young witch has accepted Our mantle, newest of Our still-few champions. She is untrained, and though those around her are pure of heart, they have not the skills to train her in the weapons We give Our servants to wield.”

The wizard felt a surge of relief. He knew now what his master wished of him, and to train a fellow white mage would be a pleasure indeed compared to his usual duties. Even among black mages, few had fallen so far he could feel no pity for them, no sorrow at his role as their appointed executioner.

The fire flared, twisting into an image before him. The wizard studied the face, committing it to memory.

“In five week’s time, she will arrive in the land of the Pyramid Kings, in the new capital of the country. You shall meet her there, and instruct her in the use of her new powers and in the nature of both Our siblings’s and Our enemies’ servants. To prove your identity to her, tell her that Thor bids you tell her he still refuses to use his inside voice.”

The wizard kept his surprise from showing on his face. That was most certainly not something he would expect his master to say. Still, on a moment’s reflection he could see the sense in the passphrase. As it was not anything anyone would expect his master to say, no imposter would be likely to guess it. Perhaps the girl had suggested it during her meeting with his master, when they had made their contract.

“All shall be as you desire, Your Holiness,” said the wizard, bowing before the white cube of his altar.

 


	6. Minneyar (Miraculous Ladybug)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I understand why Oblivio had to end with the Miracle erasing Ladybug and Cat Noir's memories, I've always felt that Ladybug should have been able to keep her memories. At that moment, she clearly wanted to remember, so suppose that she did...

As Cat Noir released her from the kiss, Ladybug felt her heart twist within her. Even with only having known the feline superhero for maybe fifteen minutes, she already knew she loved him.

_I wish I could remember this,_ she thought, then she threw the teapot upwards with a shout of “Miraculous Ladybug!” Above her, it exploded into a cloud of sparkling magic ladybugs. Some ladybugs swirled upwards, wiping away the massive memory bubble, others spiraled downwards into the building beneath, and one swarm swirled around her and Adrien. She felt the cool light of the Ladybug magic wash through her mind, and in its wake her memories were restored. She remembered everything…

_I remember_ everything _. Oh God, I remember_ everything. _I remember… Oh god, Adrien is Cat Noir. AdrienisCatNoirIkissedAdrienOhmyGodohmyGod…_

She was barely aware that her jaw had dropped and she’d taken a step back. In front of her, she saw her partner-love’s eyes suddenly widen, and she knew that the same frantic thoughts were swirling through his mind.

“Uh, Ladybug, Cat Noir?”

At the sound of Alya’s voice, Marinette suddenly remembered that they were not alone on the rooftop. With a supreme effort of will, she shoved down her confusion and surprise and focused on the now. She could afford to fall to pieces later.

“Pound it?” she said, raising one fist.

“Pound it!” Cat – Adrien – chorused, meeting her fist with his own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cat Noir had no idea how his Lady managed to get through the hours after Oblivio. He was completely certain _he_ wouldn’t have been able to do it without years of practice at hiding his true feelings, presenting the emotions and appearance that he wished regardless of what was actually in his head.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the day was over. He was safely in his room, his father was gone, and he was finally free to call for Plagg and dash across the rooftops to his Lady’s balcony.

He found Ladybug there waiting for him in civilian attire. He gazed across the street at her for a moment, feeling a sudden nervousness. He knew that Marinette had a fangirl crush on his civilian identity, which could make the upcoming conversation… awkward.

He bit down on his nervousness and leapt across the street, touching down on her balcony with a thump. She jumped, one hand coming up to her chest.

“Cat – Adrien!” she exclaimed, breathlessly interrupting herself. “You startled me!”

Adrien stared at her for a moment, marveling anew at how blind he’d been. Plagg had explained that there was magic on the Miraculouses to keep people from making the connection with their civilian identities, but he still would not have believed until today that he could go to school with his Lady for the better part of a year and not recognize her.

“Bizarre, isn’t it?” he said, after the pause had stretched on long enough to become awkward, “For a year I’ve been crushing on Ladybug, waiting for her to acknowledge my feelings, when all the time _she_ was crushing on _me_. All this time, we could have been enjoying each other’s company.”

Ladybug’s cheeks turned as red as her suit, but then she shook herself and he saw the familiar spark of focus in her eyes.

“We’ll have to be careful, going forward,” she said. “More so even than before. You saw what happened on Heroes’ Day, how knowing each other’s identities threw Rena Rouge and Carapace off. There were reasons I insisted we had to keep our identities secret.”

Cat Noir flinched slightly. “I know,” he said quietly. “Believe me, I would rather _anything_ than risk you.”

“Still,” he continued, pulling a smile onto his face, “Now is not the time to think about such things. Whatever the price will be for knowing each other, we’re going to have to pay it anyway. Might as well enjoy the good parts of it.”

He stepped forward and leaned down, pursing his lips. Marinette turned her head up, and their lips met.

_No lightning and thunder. No sunbursts and angels singing. But then, we’d want to pay attention to that instead of to this._

_I think I like this better._

He felt his lady’s fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head down against hers. He wrapped one leather-clad arm around her, holding her close, reveling in the feel of her lips on his and her body pressed up against him. He slid his tongue between her lips, twining his tongue around hers.

Eventually, he felt Marinette pull away from him. He opened his eyes, feeling a silly grin on his face and not caring, and smiled down at his Lady.

“So how are we going to do this?” he said. “Alya caught us kissing in the masks, so I doubt there’s any point hiding our relationship as heroes. Might want to keep it a secret for a week or two as civilians, though. No point giving out any more clues than we have to, and it’ll give us time to think through how to deal with Chloe and Lila and my father.”

Marinette sighed. “I don’t want to make a big deal about our relationship, not as heroes. We’re superheroes, not celebrities. Whether or not we’re dating shouldn’t be anyone’s business. And I don’t know how well I’ll be able to hide the change in our relationship as civilians.” She blushed. “I wasn’t exactly… circumspect… about my feelings towards you, and I don’t see how I can fake that kind of desperation, not when I know that you actually do reciprocate my feelings.”

Adrien shrugged. “Can’t say that I feel the same way as you about the media, but I suppose that’s just because I’m Adrien Agreste. Ever since I was old enough to understood what dating and relationships _were_ , I’ve known that my romantic life would be scrutinized to the nth degree by the media. That just feels normal to me. And of course, now that I’ve finally gotten you to return my affections, I want to shout it from the rooftops. Still, if you don’t want to make a big deal about it, we don’t have to. I just don’t want to have to hide it. Just do as we feel inclined, as if Alya weren’t watching, and let her draw whatever conclusions she feels like.”

“I can live with that,” Marinette said. “I don’t know how natural it’ll feel, but I can work with that. And you’re right, I don’t want to hide. I love you, and I’m not going to act like I’m ashamed of it.”

Deep within Adrien, something shifted. A pain he had lived with for the past year faded just a tad.

“Thank you, Milady,” he said, then leaned down to kiss her again.


End file.
